Captain Pickup
by deepfriedcake
Summary: "Women and cars and the men who love them," Lorelai muses one fine spring day in the diner. She thinks about cars and trucks and boyfriends past, and in particular, one flannel-clad diner owner who loves his truck very, very much.


A week or two ago, **Eledgy** linked an article by Linda Holmes, "_I Like Big Trucks and I Cannot Lie_," which discussed how women (according to a survey) find men who drive pickup trucks the most desirable. The article was deliciously funny, probably more so to us JavaJunkies, because of course one couple instantly sprang to our minds to prove the point. So, thanks to Linda Holmes for writing the article and using the term 'Captain Pickup'; thanks to _Insurance _website for taking on the survey itself, and thanks to** Eledgy** for bringing it to my attention. (And thanks as well for going 'way above and beyond being an awesome beta by giving me a great story idea _and_ providing a childhood memory to boot. You rock!)

Timeline note: After Jason, after Nicole, but before Luke sees someone's face.

To my readers: There's a special communication at the end for you!

(And to **owtpalready**, a million 'thank you's for your impeccably-timed note. I'm forever grateful to you.)

* * *

><p>It was a beautiful day in Stars Hollow. Little green leaves were bursting out of the trees in the square. Tulips were nodding away, their bright yellow and red petals making a neat edge around the gazebo. Birds were singing a song of early spring. A warming breeze was blowing down Main Street and only a few wisps of clouds could be seen in the blue sky. It was, in a word, perfect.<p>

Except…

"Luke!" Lorelai crankily summoned the Diner Man, waving him over with an upraised arm.

Stifling an obvious sigh, Luke snagged a full carafe of coffee and made his way over to Lorelai's favorite table, the one in the middle of the front window.

"I don't want coffee," she announced, with a stately toss of her head.

Luke stopped in mid-pour, an eyebrow arching in surprise. "You don't want coffee?" he challenged her, indicating the yellow mug that was two-thirds empty with a jerk of his chin. "Really?"

"Oh." Lorelai's privileged attitude downshifted a notch or two. "Well, yeah, I do want coffee, but that's not why I called you over here."

"Let's hear it." Resigned, Luke topped off her cup. "I mean, you're going to tell me anyway, so let's get it over with."

Lorelai cradled the filled mug in both hands and pulled it closer to her, as if she was afraid Luke would take it back. "I need you to move your truck," she ordered.

"What?" He swung his head to the window, glancing at his truck parked at the curb right outside the diner, and then turned back to stare curiously at Lorelai. "Why in the world do you need me to move the truck?"

"Because it's ugly."

"It is not ugly!"

"Yes, it is, Luke. And it's ruining my view."

"Oh for cryin'—" Luke clamped down on his muttered retort and took a step away from his insane customer.

"Hey, don't you run away from me, mister! Your rusty heap of metal out there is completely wrecking the beautiful spring vista I would otherwise be enjoying. As the proprietor, you should want me to have an optimum experience every time I visit your establishment. So run out there, Burger Boy, and move it!" Lorelai added in a smile, showing she was joking – sort of. "Besides, what gives with you parking in the primo spot right outside the door, anyway? Doesn't Taylor have some sort of regulation about those parking places being reserved for the big spenders visiting our fair village?"

Luke shrugged. "I was running some errands, cut it kind of close getting back. The spot was open, so I took it." Instead of the glare she half-expected, he smiled back at her. "Plus, it drives Taylor crazy when I park there."

Lorelai made a humming noise, indicating her approval of messing with fussy Mr. Doose's head in any way possible. She realized that Luke's smile was making her own smile wider. However, his fetching smile was also pushing away whatever she was trying to talk to him about. She shook her head, bringing back the issue at hand. "Tormenting Taylor is all well and good, but what about me and my right to an unobstructed view? Right now your butt-ugly vehicle is infringing upon that. So step up and do the right thing. Move it. I'll run the diner while you're gone," she graciously added.

"Yeah, like that's going to happen," Luke said, nearly under his breath. "By the time I'd come back, you'd have manhandled every piece of pie in the place."

"Woman-handled," Lorelai objected.

"Ruined," Luke shot back.

Lorelai sighed, showing her displeasure. "So you're not going to move the truck?"

"I'm not going to move the truck," Luke confirmed.

"I don't understand why you don't get rid of that hulking dinosaur. I know now you've got the bucks to do it. Why not trade up for something that doesn't look like it should have bumper stickers from the Reagan era?" Lorelai shook her head at him. "You know, there are cars made now with heated seats. Cars that allow you to play something other than 8-Track tapes."

"I _like_ the truck," Luke said forcefully, obviously trying to bring the discussion to a halt.

"But _why_?" Lorelai asked, just as forcefully.

Luke had been trying to inch away, to put distance between himself and her truck disdain. But now he stopped in his tracks, his head slightly bowed, pursing his lips as he contemplated her question.

"Because…" He looked up, met her eyes briefly before staring past her, out the window to where the ancient green vehicle sat. "It was my dad's," he said quietly.

_Crap._ Lorelai squeezed shut her eyes. Once again she'd managed to step right in it. Knowing Luke; knowing how he revered his father, she should have been able to draw that conclusion herself. "Luke, I'm sorry. I didn't realize."

He waved his free hand at her dismissively. "It's OK. I know the thing's past its prime."

She stared down at the coffee in her mug, biting her tongue to ensure she didn't say more of the wrong things, which taking into account her track record, she surely would if given the chance. She expected him to cut his losses and head for the kitchen, allowing her to deal privately with her faux pas. Instead the coffee pot landed on the table, making her jump.

Luke put his hands on the back of one of the other chairs, turning sideways so he could see both her and the truck. "I know it's kind of crazy, but for some reason I can imagine my old man giving me a big thumb's up every year I manage to keep the thing running. He loved that truck. And every time I change the oil; put another thousand miles on the odometer, and it's still going…I know how happy that would have made him; that his truck is still out on the road."

"Chevy guy, huh?" Lorelai theorized. She smiled gently, hoping he'd see she was still feeling bad about her previous remarks and open to listening to his thoughts. It wasn't often that Luke was willing to reveal anything much beyond the basics about his past.

"You know, not so much." He chuckled and pulled out the chair, shocking Lorelai again by sitting down on it. "I think he just got a really good deal on it. And he liked green, so maybe that had something to do with it. Maybe it had more to do with the fact that the truck took whatever he could throw at it. You name it, it's been hauled in it. I couldn't tell you how many times it's helped move somebody here in Stars Hollow. And you know, what with running a hardware store, there was always something to go pick up or deliver to somebody. That truck earned its keep pretty quick."

"But all that hard work didn't earn it retirement? Shouldn't it be rocking away on the porch at the Old Truck's Home?"

"It just kept going. Made Dad proud that his truck was still runnin' as good as the day he bought it, while his buddies were trading theirs in every other year. After a while it became a member of the family. Couldn't picture him driving anything else."

"How in the world has it kept going all this time? Especially if it's been worked that hard?" Lorelai was thinking about her own Jeep, and all of the rattles and coughs she'd been hearing lately.

"I have no idea, except, you know how some cars are just lemons from the get-go? Well, this truck's the opposite. I figure it was made on a good day at the plant. All of the right parts came together in the right way and made one special truck."

"Supertruck!" Lorelai suggested. "We should paint a big 'S' on the hood!"

Luke rolled his eyes, but he chuckled again, too. "I don't think it has any crime-fighting capabilities. And probably part of its longevity is because Dad took good care of it. He was a real advocate of preventive maintenance."

"So that's where you learned that, huh?" Lorelai reached over and gently patted his hand. "I've seen you with your head stuck under the hood more times than I can count."

"Yeah, luckily Gypsy can still get parts for it, but I like to keep it running myself. Fixing what I can." Luke glanced outside again, his eyes flickering over the more faded parts of the truck's sheet metal. "I know it isn't the most handsome vehicle on the road anymore," he said, frowning slightly with that admission.

"It does look like it's been to war and back."

"I guess it does." He shrugged. "But you know, every one of those dents and dings has a story to go along with it. A little piece of history to tell."

"Oh?" She put as much encouragement as possible into that one word, nodding her head and trying to look incredibly interested. She was curious to see if she could keep Luke talking. She did a quick reconnaissance of the diner, pleased to see that no pesky patrons were in attendance, itching to pull him away from her table with their own demands.

"I remember the day Dad drove the truck home for the first time," he confessed.

"How old were you?"

"Seven-and-a-half," he said definitively, smirking. "Remember how important those 'halves' were, when you were a kid?"

"Oh, yeah!" Lorelai agreed, grinning. "And the quarters, too!"

"I remember standing on the porch, waiting," he told her. "I thought Dad would never get home. I kept hanging on to the post by the steps, watching for him to turn the corner.

"Finally I saw this shiny, green truck coming, and Dad stuck his hand out of the window, waving at me. Man, I was down the steps and waiting in the driveway before he'd even pulled in.

"He opened the door, helped me to climb up in his lap to look over the cab. He showed me the dash; explained what everything did. I wanted to play for a while, to pretend to drive, but Dad wanted me to see the rest of the truck."

"Well, sure," Lorelai commented. "You gotta see what makes a truck a truck, right?"

"Exactly," Luke said, nodding happily. "We went around to the back, and he put down the tailgate. I was just tall enough to scramble up in the back without any help, and I was so proud of that accomplishment. Dad left me there, examining every inch of the bed, while he went in to get my mom and Lizzie."

"Lizzie?" Lorelai raised her eyebrows questioningly. She'd never heard Luke refer to his sister that way.

Luke rolled his eyes a little bit at himself, looking as though he'd been caught at something. "Yeah, I guess when I think about her as a little girl, I still think of her as Lizzie. That's what we called her, when she was little. It was only after she became a royal pain that she was Liz."

"Makes sense." Lorelai nodded in understanding.

"She was a pain that day, though."

"How so?"

"Well, the day Dad brought home the truck, it just happened to be her fourth birthday, so naturally she thought the truck was a present for her."

Lorelai laughed. "Well, naturally!"

Luke was grinning again. "She and I had many an argument over who had more right to the truck. Her, because it came on her birthday, or me, since I was a boy and older and all."

Lorelai shook her head sorrowfully at him. "You pint-sized chauvinist, you."

"Yeah," he said, a little distractedly, and Lorelai could see he was still trucking down memory lane.

"What else do you remember?" she asked, hoping to keep him talking longer.

He turned towards her then, shifting forward on his seat so it felt like he was suddenly much closer. His voice dropped. "I brought Jess home from the hospital in that truck," he confided, a sweet, bashful smile accompanying that information.

His nearness and the intimacy of that smile derailed Lorelai's thought processes for a moment. She had to take a breath and physically give her shoulders a shake before finding a response. "_You_ brought Jess home?" she questioned. "He's such a tough guy; I figured he walked home on his own. Hitchhiked or something. Flagged down a cab." She took a leisurely swallow of coffee, reminding herself that this was Luke, just Luke; the same Luke who had made this coffee for her, as he did each day. No big deal. Just Luke.

Luke scowled at her, but in an almost playful way. "Dad and I drove into the city when Liz called and told us the baby was coming. I don't think we said more than ten words to each other during the whole trip. Neither of us cared much for Jimmy, and we knew if there was ever a couple too young and too messed up for a baby, it was Liz and Jimmy. But the baby was coming, so what else could we do?"

"Nothing," Lorelai agreed softly. "Except be there."

"Right." Luke nodded emphatically. "But we both knew what the other was thinking, anyway. We get there, and of course they've done nothing to prepare for the baby coming. So Dad and Jimmy went out to get supplies – which meant my dad paid for everything – and that left me with Liz at the hospital, to bring her and Jess home."

Lorelai was grinning hugely, shaking her head at him. "I cannot picture you with a baby." She laughed outright. "Nor can I picture Jess as an innocent little infant. Did he have leather diapers?"

"I'll have you know, he was –"Abruptly, Luke cut himself off. He pointed at her sternly. "Not one word of this to him ever, you understand? Or to Rory, either."

Pulling her lips between her teeth to keep from laughing, Lorelai made a 'cross my heart' motion across her chest, indicating her promise.

"He was _beautiful_." Luke shook his head at the bare truth of his statement. "There's just no other way to describe him. He had all of this dark, soft hair crowded on top of his head, and his skin looked like something out of an oil painting. Luminous."

Lorelai blinked, a bit unnerved to hear a word like 'luminous' come out of Luke's mouth.

"He was this…tiny little bundle of warmth, and he was…" Here Luke paused, struggling to find the word, his hands and arms trying to illustrate what he was thinking.

"Cuddly," Lorelai suggested, intently watching his hands.

"Yeah," he agreed, putting his hands back on the table now that the proper word had been voiced. "Cuddly. And he smelled so…so…"

"That's how they get you," Lorelai stated. She reached out and put her hand over one of his, one confidant to another. "That baby smell. It permeates everything around them, like a drug. It sucks you right in. That's how they convince you to ditch everything and take care of them. To get up at 2 A.M. every day. It's how they get you to –"

Luke suddenly looked up, locking eyes with her, making her falter over her next word.

"—l-love them." She finished her explanation, breathing unevenly for some reason. Belatedly, she pulled back her hand, realizing it had been on top of his for far longer than she'd intended.

He looked away, slumping back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Anyway, I went and got the truck, pulled up outside the hospital to get Liz and the baby. Then it took me, Liz, a taxi driver, the parking attendant, and two people who happened to be passing by a whole _hour_ to figure out how to get the damn carseat in the truck!"

Lorelai chortled, nodding her head in understanding.

Warming to his theme, Luke's voice got more heated. "And then it took us another hour to figure out how to put the baby in it without strangling him with all the damn straps!"

"Yeah," Lorelai was still giggling. "Back then, those things were like a Rubik's Cube! There was only one right combination, and the challenge was to see if you could figure it out before the baby needed to eat or be changed again."

"Well, we finally got it figured out." He waved his hand in the air, finishing that part of the struggle. "And then, the next week, after Jimmy up and disappeared, we went to get Liz and Jess again, only this time we brought them really home. To here, I mean. Stars Hollow."

"Jess was here? As a baby?"

"For a little bit. Liz couldn't stand it here for very long. But yeah, we went and brought her back here for a while. Nothing else we could do. We piled everything she owned into the back of that truck. All of the brand new baby things Dad had bought her, just the week before. We couldn't all fit into the cab if we used the babyseat, so it got put in the back too. Liz sat in the middle, holding Jess in her arms. Dad drove about 30 miles under the speed limit all the way home, scared to death we were going to get pulled over for not having Jess strapped in." Luke gave a rueful shake of his head. "And even though he kept blustering about how me and Liz grew up just fine without ever once being strapped into some fancy seat, he was still worried that his new little grandson was somehow going to be harmed by being untethered during the drive home."

"Sounds like a good granddad to me."

"Yeah. He was." Luke sighed, troubling memories making him sad. "When Liz let him," he mumbled. "When she bothered to let us know where they were."

Lorelai decided it was time to get away from the painful reminiscing. Maybe it was time for teasing again.

"Still, Luke, that truck must have been rough on your reputation."

"What?"

"Well, a hot young stud like you? Track star and all? The golden Butch Danes?" Lorelai mournfully shook her head at him. "I can't imagine that any of the pretty little cheerleaders wanted to be caught riding around in _that."_ She dipped her shoulder at the truck right outside the window.

"Hmm, you'd be surprised." Luke got up from the table; thoughtfully pushed his chair back in. He picked up the coffee pot and refilled Lorelai's mug again, preparing to step away, but before he did, he took a moment to lean down beside her. "You know what the biggest problem is when you're a teenager and dating, right? Trying to find someplace to be alone, someplace where you can…_cuddle_ a little bit?"

"Ye-ah," Lorelai said slowly, not following him. "What's the truck got to do with that?"

His grin was a cocky one. He bent his knees, bringing his face down to hers at sitting level. "Well, you throw a couple of blankets in the back, and _voilá_, instant bedroom under the stars."

Her mouth was gaping open. "_Luke!"_

He laughed, apparently pleased at being able to shock her for once. Rising, he grasped her shoulder and gave it a playful squeeze. "Don't you worry about old Butch. He did just fine back in the day."

Flabbergasted, she watched him strut back behind the counter. Finally she chuckled and turned back to the window. She sipped at the coffee and stared at the truck.

_Boys and their toys_, she thought. Here she had always assumed Luke kept the old truck because he was the one guy who didn't really care what he drove. Instead it turned out he kept it around because he cared the most.

It was possible that Luke cared more about his vehicle than anyone she'd ever met. Almost as much as…

…_Peyton Sanders._ Her eyes widened. There was a name she hadn't heard in a long, long time, she thought, her brain using Obi-wan Kenobi's voice.

Peyton Sanders. _Geesh._ She hadn't thought of him for years. Now, _he_ was a guy in love with his car. In fact, his attachment to his car and to the other status symbols in his life kept him from bonding with anyone else. Such a shame, too. He was _so_ pretty.

For a really short period of time, say between the drink orders and the appetizers on the night of their one date, Lorelai thought maybe she could concentrate only on the prettiness and not dwell on his dull self-centeredness. There was Bowie to look forward to, after all. But even the lure of a potentially once-in-lifetime concert couldn't mask how little Peyton wanted to hear her thoughts and opinions. She could have been anyone sitting across the table from him. She didn't even register as a potential girlfriend to him.

She remembered how flattered she had been when he'd returned her initial call so quickly. She really thought that he must have been as intrigued with her at the auction as she'd been with him. She was a little unnerved when he'd asked her to jet off to see Bowie before they'd even been out on a first date, but his immediate offer had gratified her, too. She'd allowed herself to imagine, for just a moment, that maybe it had been love at first sight for him. That maybe their humorous bidding for the last glass of Merlot would be a tale they'd tell their grandchildren someday.

_Ha, wrong!_ Lorelai shook her head at her foolishness. Peyton cared more about the size of his pistons – she snickered – than he did about her that night. When he brought her home, and hinted about coming in with her, she told him she couldn't because of Rory, gratefully using the 'kid in the house' excuse. He looked at her blankly, already forgetting about the daughter he'd met only hours before.

But still…_Bowie_. Lorelai still got a pang of regret sometimes, when 'Major Tom' played on the radio.

She took another swallow of coffee and turned enough to see a glimpse of Luke back behind the counter. Peyton used his fancy Jag to keep people at bay; to keep himself front and center. But Luke loved his truck _more _because of the people he associated with it. Those two guys couldn't be more different.

Sighing, Lorelai faced forward in her seat again, pensively staring out the window. Well, the Peyton incident had taught her something, especially after the battering her parents had given her over it. Her father playing golf with Peyton's father so he could 'assess the damage' she'd done. Fretting over whether or not her mother continued to receive that all-important first cup of tea. What a ridiculous dust-up over nothing. But it had convinced her not to date any men who lived in Hartford ever again. It was safer that way. Nobody from Hartford. Nobody from Chilton…

_Chilton._ She shuddered involuntarily. _Max._

Max, and that poor, beautiful Mustang of his. He had genuine affection for that car though, Lorelai had to credit him for that. Not an over-the-top obsession like Peyton's, but a true fondness, as if the car was a member of his family. Or a colleague, maybe, or an elderly neighbor who needed a helping hand to get by.

She remembered all of the excuses he made for the car. Dampness had gotten into the wiring, so it wouldn't start. It was cold, so the door lock had frozen. The passenger seat was permanently stuck in one position because he couldn't find the right part needed to rebuild the lever that would release it. Lorelai had learned, very early in their relationship, to offer to drive the Jeep when they went out. It was just easier that way.

And unlike Luke, Max was not mechanically minded. He liked to pretend he was, but that was not one of his talents. Doing the Mustang's repairs himself was not an option. Oh, he tried all right, but in the end his efforts just meant towing the car to a real auto shop and paying a bill twice as big when the mechanic had to repair the original problem, plus whatever else Max had broken during his attempt. Trying to keep the vintage car running on his equally old-fashioned salary strained his budget over and over again.

Max loved to imagine that he understood his car. He fantasized that he and the car had this bond, this unbreakable relationship. But in the end, the truth was that he didn't understand it at all. He didn't know what made it run, or what it needed to keep going. He liked the image it projected, the handsome teacher and the cool car. But underneath, that's all it was. A daydream. Not the down-to-earth reality of Luke and his truck.

Lorelai realized that she'd been sitting in the diner for a long time now. She wiggled her toes in her shoes under the table and squeezed her fingers tighter around the mug of coffee, trying to gauge how warm the liquid inside still was. She'd drink it anyway, even if it was ice cold, but hotter was definitely better.

So far she'd thought about Peyton, a one-date wonder, and about Max, a man she'd nearly married. Was there something about this spring afternoon making her remember boyfriends past?

_Women and cars and the men who love them_, she mused. Hmm, who else?

Well, there was Alex. She frowned. Funny, she knew she'd been in his car a bunch of times back when they were dating, but now she couldn't even picture it. Was it gray? Silver? Dark blue? She shrugged, drinking down a big gulp of the rapidly cooling coffee. Oh well, apparently it hadn't made a very big impression on her.

So…moving on. Jason.

Jason and his perfectly detailed black Mercedes. The ideal car to show the world he was a successful businessman. Jason cared about the status of the car; not the car itself. Any brand would do, as long as it was new and expensive and shiny. Luxurious enough to show potential clients that he'd made enough bucks to possess a car like this. Comfortable enough to aid him through long days and nights of wheeling-dealing. Equipped with enough bells and whistles to impress clients and give him an easier ride while he drove around, roping them in. But an emotional attachment to the car itself? Nope. The car was just a car. An accessory. Jason's car meant no more to him than the belt she'd picked out this morning to go with her navy blue pants did to her.

Maybe Luke wasn't concerned about the image his vehicle projected, but image was the only thing that mattered to Jason. The vehicle itself was completely interchangeable.

Lorelai frowned, hunching over the almost empty mug. She ran a finger over the rim, contemplating the only man remaining on her list.

Christopher. He was always on the list somewhere, wasn't he?

Christopher and that ridiculous Volvo he was still running around in. The family car that made him believe he could be a family guy. Just the way his years of tooling around on the motorcycle made him believe that he was rebellious and carefree with a dark, rock'n'roll edge. But regardless of his ride, he was the same Christopher he'd always been. Nice, but clueless. Thoughtful, when he remembered to be. Funny, always. Dependable…never.

The Volvo was nothing more than a façade. It was just the window-dressing for his latest game of 'let's pretend.' She was astonished to find a sudden little jab of sympathy inside herself for Sherry. She wondered if Sherry had learned to look beyond the pretending yet. She wondered if she'd already suffered through a bout or two of Christopher disappointment.

She was surprised to feel gratitude that she wasn't the one suffering through it. She had no desire to deal with the Volvo era.

So…anyone else?

Lorelai smiled. Well, there was always the first boyfriend every little girl had.

_Daddy._

Richard Gilmore hadn't been much of a car guy while she was growing up, at least, not that she'd noticed. But once he had the time, he'd indulged his fascination with antique cars. She remembered the first one, a few years ago, the 1929 Packard Custom Eight Phaeton that had driven her mother crazy by constantly oozing green liquid, staining her pristine driveway.

And, she nodded knowingly to herself, what really drove Emily Gilmore crazy was that the car took Richard's focus off of his wife, where she thought it belonged.

Her father never did anything halfway. When he decided to own an antique car, he went all out to learn about it. He studied diagrams; went to car meets. He talked to experts. He found out how to locate specialized parts. He taught himself how to diagnose and repair the car's problems. He revered the car and treated it with respect.

Just like Luke and his truck, her father loved his old car. He enjoyed the challenge of keeping it road-worthy. He honored the memories of the people who had owned the car before him. He appreciated the car because it appealed to him, not because it was considered to be valuable in someone else's eyes.

_Huh,_ Lorelai thought, shaking her head. Who would have ever dreamed that her father and Luke Danes had something in common?

The mug was now completely drained, so Lorelai picked up her napkin and spoon, preparing to leave the diner. She paused, her eyes once again drawn to the faded green paint outside the window.

She hated to admit it, because it happened so rarely, but she might have been wrong about the pickup. The truck had come to her rescue more than once in the years she'd known Luke. It had rushed her to the hospital that snowy December when her father had his heart scare. It had shepherded Rory safely to Yale. It had come through for her over and over again, delivering new furniture to her house and hauling away the old. It had brought Luke to her house so many times she could never add them all up; all of those times when he'd stopped by to fix a leak or hammer something loose into submission. It had even served as a substitute vehicle for her on an occasion or two, when the Jeep was being fixed. The truck was strong and dependable. It had been there every time she needed it.

Lorelai found herself staring at the truck bed. She grinned, remembering Luke's revelation about that. Apparently the truck even had a sexy side to it, which she never would have guessed.

Also, she had to further admit that the truck fit Luke. It was a little rough, but strong. Dependable. Just like Luke. Neither the truck nor Luke tried to be anything other than what they were. He and the truck were always there for the people who needed them. He was such a hard worker; never shirking the duties of his business, or the call of family. Or friends, for that matter. And just like the truck hid its appeal under rust and faded paint, Luke hid his under that hat and those everyday flannel shirts.

Lorelai grinned again. Unlike the truck, she'd _always_ suspected that there was a sexy side to Luke.

She looked over her shoulder at Luke once more, casting a fond smile towards him, even though he was busy drying a tray of glasses and didn't see it.

Lorelai faced forward again, slinging her purse strap over her shoulder, preparing to leave. _Fondness_, she mused. Is that what she felt for Luke? A friendly fondness? Or was it more like affection? A warm and cuddly affection? Or…was it something more? Something more like –

_Love._

The startling word spilled over her like a wave on the beach.

"Whoa," Lorelai gasped, as a current of surprise coursed through her body.

If her life was a Rubik's Cube, the last errant piece had just twisted and clicked into place. For years she'd had Rory's side all properly aligned. Other sides, those for her home and her friends, she'd had those figured out for a long time, too. She was even making progress with those pesky parent pieces. And of course, she was ready to see the Dragonfly portion come to its satisfying conclusion, with all of the colored squares lined up correctly. There was only one side she hadn't been able to make any headway on. The side for love was all messed up, the colors scattered everywhere around the cube, with no solution to bring them together into the right pattern.

Not until this moment. This moment when she realized that the truck outside and the man behind the counter forced all of the wayward pieces of the cube to snap into alignment.

The sudden insight made her sit very still for several minutes, absorbing the impact of what she'd just concluded. _It was Luke._ It had probably always been Luke, and she'd been too blind or too busy or too oblivious to see it.

He fit into her life – _he always had_ – just the way the pickup fit into his. No matter what this overwhelming emotion was that she felt for him – whether it was truly love, or sweet affection, or something else – it was strong and deep, and, she suspected, had been collecting inside her heart for years. She owed it to herself – and to Luke, too – to do something to bring that feeling to the surface and examine it more closely. No more ignoring what was right in front of her. If he was destined to be _her_ pickup truck, she needed to find out.

But how much of a challenge would it be to get him to come to the same conclusion?

Nervously, she peeked back at him again. This time he looked up, catching her glance. Their eyes met and held for another fraught moment, almost like the powerful one they'd shared a few minutes earlier when discussing luminous babies. But this time, almost as if he could sense that something about her had changed, he tore his eyes away and looked down, and then turned his head slightly, deliberately looking across the empty diner instead of at her. He swallowed, hard enough that she could see it, all the way from her seat at the window. Suddenly she gleaned that getting him to agree to a date – or a relationship – or even a lifetime together – maybe wouldn't be as hard as she feared.

_Don't go getting too crazy here_, she warned herself, perceiving her well-known penchant for leaping without looking. _Don't get too close to the edge. A date. A date would be a good place to start._

She stood up, making a wish as she looked at the truck one more time. Then, as bravely as she could, she sauntered up to the counter, her heart pounding away in her chest.

"Here," she said, placing her used items on the counter in front of him.

"Oh, thanks. You didn't need to do that."

"Save you a few steps," she said, taking a deep breath, ready to go for broke. "So, thanks for telling me about Captain Pickup, the superhero truck."

Luke looked at her warily, hearing her teasing tone. But then he saw the sincere look on her face, and he relaxed, one side of his mouth quirking up in a smile she had no problem categorizing as sexy, now that her eyes had been opened. "Any time," he acknowledged, with what seemed to be an encouraging warmth wrapping around his words.

Lorelai steeled herself and forged ahead. "OK, listen. Saturday night. I need you and Captain Pickup at my house at 7:00."

"What?" He stopped the persistent wiping and polishing and stood still, staring at her. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about this Saturday night. My house. 7:00. Don't be late."

She could see the flame of irritation flare up in him. "I assume you've got some chore you need me to do at your house, is that it? And of course, you think I'm just available at your beck and call anytime, right? What makes you think I'm not going to be here, working, on Saturday night?"

"Are you?" she asked calmly.

"No," he had to admit, appearing even more irritated as he told her the truth about his schedule. "But that doesn't mean I want to use up my night off at your place, hauling whatever it is in and out of your house."

"Aw, Luke, it'll be fun. You'll see. 7. Don't forget." She took a step away from the counter, doing her best to sound casual.

"Lorelai, wait! What do you need the truck for?"

She paused, pretending to check down inside her purse for something, hiding her face for a beat. "Oh, um, I need him to take me someplace."

"Take you someplace?" Luke's face was a study in confusion. "Is something wrong with the Jeep?"

"Nope. The Jeep's fine."

"Then why –" He threw his arms up, exasperated beyond measure with her, as per normal. "Then why do you need me to take you someplace?"

She shrugged, threw him a bright smile, and walked quickly to the door.

"Lorelai!" he yelled in frustration, rushing out from behind the counter. "Where am I supposed to be taking you?"

At the door she stopped, one hand already on the handle. She didn't have enough courage to look back. "I don't know. Wherever you think would be a good place for our first date."

In the silence that followed, she counted to ten. Then slowly she turned around. Luke's mouth was now the one gaping open, his eyes glazed over in shock.

"If you…if you'd want to," she backtracked, for once sounding very meek.

Luke snapped out of his daze. "I…uh, sure. Uh, sure…That'd be fine."

"Good, then. Good. It's a…it's a date." She chuckled at her unintended although appropriate choice of words, and Luke slowly smiled back at her.

"I'll be there," he agreed, with a certain soft note in his voice that made a tingle shiver down her back.

"You and the truck," she reminded him, just for something to say, just to prolong the moment.

He shook his head, smiled broader. "Me _and_ the truck."

Lorelai nodded, happy, and turned to pull open the door. "Oh, and, hey Luke?" She gave him a saucy look, feeling much more confident now. "Throw a couple of blankets into the back of the truck before you come get me, OK? You know, for later." She winked at his once again stunned look, and rushed out of the door with a laugh, giving him time to recover.

Out on the street she looked into the diner's window, giving a wave and another smile to Luke, who was staring after her, a bemused look on his face. Laughing, she walked behind the old truck, letting her hand trail over the tailgate. "See you Saturday night, Captain Pickup," she whispered, before crossing the street to where her own beloved Jeep was patiently waiting on her.

THE END

* * *

><p><em>Hello, Dear Readers!<em> You may or may not have noticed that it's been a while since I've posted anything. I've been going through some sort of crisis of confidence, I guess, wondering if I should use my writing time for some more productive endeavor, or if there was any reason for me to write at all. In turn, that crisis led to a period of writer's block and months of unhappy dithering. Anyway, this story popped out last week and apparently I'm now back! I know I promised some of you a Star-Crossed summary, but I think there's a good chance I'll get around to finishing it eventually. Your patience and support will be appreciated as I try to get back into the swing of things again. Bless all of you who review or let authors know you care! It means a ton to us!


End file.
